Facade
by Amory Vain
Summary: Prompt: "Crack hookerfic! Alec ends up working at a brothel." Logan/Alec; warnings for prostitution and UST.


**Facade [[804 Words]]**  
_Dark Angel_  
Logan/Alec (UST), implied Alec/Others  
set post-Manticore, sometime season two.  
Angst, prostitution, UST UST UST. Oh, and a kiss--but that doesn't help the UST.

* * *

"Don't tell me you're paying such big money just to bug my office, Logan." Alec grinned at the way Logan reacted to the word _office_, reaching to toy with the buttons at his collar. "I'm expensive. You should try to get your money's worth."

They'd been doing this dance all evening. Alec had been trying his hardest to flirt, working to pull a reaction of some sort from Logan. It wasn't that he was _attracted_ to the man (was he? Wasn't he? Life had been a lot simpler when Manticore'd just dictated all of his feelings), he just—needed to know if Logan felt something for _him_. And this was it; time was almost up and he had to do _something_, so he'd pushed himself into Logan's personal space and gone for it. Whatever _it_ was.

"Alec—" He could hear the man's breathing become uneven—whether from excitement or fear, he didn't know (wanted to know, though, so _much_). Logan covered Alec's hand with his own, stilling the nervous motion, and looked at him, expression unreadable. Not pushing him away, but not moving closer, either, and what did that mean? "Alec, what are you doing?"

Damn it. Damn it. He couldn't take this. Alec let out the breath he _hadn't_ been holding, laughed, _not _defensive, and said, "Just my job." Kissed him.

He kissed him, crushing their mouths together, tongue pushing between those half-parted lips and pressing against teeth. Logan tasted of coffee and cough drops, and Alec filed the information away but didn't let himself dwell on it. Instead he made himself uncurl his fingers from the front of Logan's shirt, made himself break the kiss and pull back.

He let Logan recoil, watched him scrub a fist across his mouth, flushed and wide-eyed. Alec worked up a smirk and ignored the warmth spreading through his lower stomach at the way the man looked, lips swollen and hair mussed, pointedly _not_ noticing that his glasses were crooked and slid halfway down his nose in a way that Max (that's right, Max, _Logan's_ Max, waiting outside, and what did that mean for _him_?) would probably have found adorable. He smirked, and "There. Now you look like you've been doing what you're supposed to in here. Gotta stay in character, you know."

Logan opened his mouth, shut it. Opened it again, blinking and adjusting his glasses. "In character. Right." Alec thought (hoped) he might say something else, but Logan dropped his gaze. He started to run a hand through his hair and paused, barely approximating the wry smile Alec knew all too well. "Am I allowed to straighten up, or should I leave…mussed?"

"Oh, go ahead. They always clean up before they go. Guilt, you know." He perched on the end of the too-large bed to watch Logan straighten his jacket and card fingers through his hair. "Put on some more cologne. They always overdo it with the cologne."

Logan smiled, despite himself. "In that case, my uncle Paul must've been a regular customer."

Alec laughed. "You never know." He leaned back on his elbows, glancing up at the clock above the doorway. He noted the time, torn between relief and regret at the digits displayed. "Hour's almost up. Move it, I've got someone booked right after you."

Logan looked up from his briefcase, something Alec wouldn't call _dismay_ in his narrowed eyes. "A customer? You're going to—"

"It's my job." Alec said, a little too quickly. He twisted the sheets next to him, balling his hands into fists. Bit his lip and worked his mouth into that lascivious grin he knew should be expected (Always alright, that's Alec, always alright and always _horny_), adding "you can listen in if you'd like."

Logan flinched and maybe blushed, shaking his head once and standing to go. "Just—be careful. And get a look at his driver's license. Maybe he'll be the one we're looking for."

"I'll read you the number when I find it," he returned, before realizing what that meant and amending quickly, "Or I'll just memorize it. For later."

"Alec—" Logan stopped and turned back, hand on the doorknob, looking pained.

"_What_?" He snapped, sitting up and speaking too fast. He couldn't stand this; Logan had to _go_. Too awkward was too awkward, and he couldn't take it. "Waiting for a goodbye kiss?"

"No." There he was, about to say something again, and Alec had ruined it. He sighed and shook his head, pushing open the door and stepping into the hallway. "Just be careful."

Alec watched the door fall shut and fell back on the bed, feeling agitated and _stupid_. He threw an arm over his eyes, wishing he could take back that entire hour. "Fuck," he muttered, to no one in particular (Was he listening in already?). "Damn it."


End file.
